


pin wheel

by littlereyofsunlight



Series: Extenuating Circumstances [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angie doesn't show up at all but that's part of the point, F/M, Meet-Cute, and also some archers you'd probably recognize if this were a painting instead of a fic, brief cameo by Natasha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 06:20:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10713939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlereyofsunlight/pseuds/littlereyofsunlight
Summary: Peggy's a very good friend. Angie, well, Angie's the sort of friend who will talk you into coming to some downtown performance art but never actually show. Luckily for Peggy, that works out just fine.





	pin wheel

Peggy tapped her toe and checked her watch for at least the twelfth time that hour. Angie was officially late. She checked her phone. Scratch that, at this point Peggy had officially been stood up.

 _Poor form_ , she texted, before slipping it back into her purse and heading for a refill at the bar. The only reason she was here was to support Angie, and if she didn’t actually have to play that role tonight, she was going to get a bit tipsy on cheap wine before leaving at the interval to go home and snuggle up with some new cases to review for Judge Swain. Commercial litigation was not what Peggy wanted to focus on for the rest of her career, but a federal clerkship in her adopted hometown was not something she could have passed up. 

Behind her, another poet stood up near a wall of photos and began speaking in that slow patter. Peggy gulped her wine a little faster and eyed the exit door, manned by an overeager usher. Peggy didn’t think she could sneak past her to get out any earlier than the halfway point. Damn Angie for stranding her here.

“Pssst, over here.” Peggy heard a low voice to her left. She looked over, but all she could see was the toe of a leather oxford poking out from behind a pillar. Some few feet above the oxford, a tray of appetizers slid into view. “You grab me a glass of that wine and I’ll share the cheese plate I liberated,” the voice said. His voice was a pleasant baritone.

Peggy inched just a bit closer to the pillar, “I could just get cheese at the table of food,” she said, mostly to see what the guy would say. She really wanted a look at his face, too, but this was entertaining enough for the moment. More so than the whisper-screaming performer down the gallery, at any rate.

The guy chuckled a little. “This is the last of the cheese, so good luck with the stale breadsticks and sad melon salad.”

“You stole the cheese?” Why didn’t Peggy think of that?

“Get the wine, meet me back here, I’ll explain.” She wasn’t completely sure, but he almost sounded sheepish. Peggy made up her mind to play along.

When she returned with a fresh glass for the cheese man (and a refill for herself, as long as she was at the bar,) she looked down at her full hands, shrugged and gingerly reached out with her foot to knock it against the post. 

The tray reappeared. “Do you have the booze?” he asked, tone conspiratorial.

This was so bizarre. And the most fun she’d had at one of Angie’s downtown performance art things ever. “I have.”

“Then you may enter.” The tray retreated once more.

Peggy took a quick look around and then shimmied back behind the pillar. Due to some architectural quirk of the building, there was a fairly spacious nook in here. Cheese Guy had his broad back to her, making a quick check around the other side of the pillar that shielded his hiding spot. Peggy took a moment to notice the way his sports coat tapered in at his trim waist, the squared-off neatness of his haircut at the nape of his neck. She had a sip of her wine and very nearly choked on it when he turned to face her.

 

Steve scowled down at the cheese in his hands. He’d noticed the attractive, conservatively dressed brunette roll her eyes as the event started, but what had he been thinking, chatting her up like that? Even if this was so clearly not her scene (as it so clearly wasn’t Steve’s,) she was bound to think he was weird. Then again, he mused, as one of the performers started meowing like a constipated cat, probably everyone here was at least a little strange. Hopefully he wasn’t about to share his ill-gotten dairy product with a weirdo he wouldn’t be able to shake for the rest of the evening.

Another performer started screeching. 

Oh well, at least she was bringing wine. 

As if on cue, Wine Girl knocked at the post. After inviting her back, Steve took a moment to check around the other side, make sure they hadn’t been caught out. Nope, everyone else was rapt, attention on the caterwauling duo. And then he finally looked at her full-on. He’d caught her in profile earlier: her strong jawline, clenched in frustration maybe, the fan of her long lashes against her cheek as she glanced down to check her watch, her mane of chestnut curls swept over one shoulder. Now that he could look at her, really look at her, he realized she was gorgeous. And choking a little on her wine, which, well, helped buoy his confidence from plummeting all the way through the floor. 

Steve reached out to take the other glass from her hand while Wine Girl attempted to sputter quietly.

“Sorry,” she rasped in that upper-crust accent, “must’ve, ah, gone down wrong.”

“You okay?” He checked.

She coughed into her elbow and nodded, blinking rapidly. “Fine, just fine.”

“I’m Steve,” he went to offer his hand but realized both were full and gave her a little shrug instead.

She clinked her wine glass with his. “Peggy. Good hiding spot.”

He blushed. “Thanks, uh, this really isn’t my typical Tuesday night.” He offered her the tray, and she took a cracker and some cheddar.

“Nor mine,” she said, “I was meant to meet someone, but I think I’ve been stood up.”

“I’m here for a friend.” Steve looked down at the cheese again. “Um, actually, I have to save the cheese for her.”

Peggy stopped with the cracker inches from her lips and quirked an eyebrow at him.

“No, sorry, I mean, you can definitely eat that.” He waited until she warily took a bite. “My friend kinda got roped into producing this thing with someone else. She wasn’t in charge of the food. I’m, uh, under strict orders to save her some cheese. And when I saw there was only the one platter…” he shrugged, “I had to do something.”

Peggy chewed, nodding. “Evasive maneuvers?” she suggested.

Steve brightened. “Exactly.” He took some cheese for himself. 

Peggy snagged another piece. “Well, you can tell her you took a finder’s fee, then.”

“Which I’m sharing with you?”

“Bartered for the wine, remember?” Peggy quirked that eyebrow again and Steve felt something sort of swoop low in his gut. “She certainly cannot blame you for needing wine to get through this.”

“I think the text she sent me about this event read something like “You’ll hate it and I’ll hate it, but the booze is free.””

“You’re a good friend, Steve,” Peggy said solemnly, before she stole more cheese.

They chewed in silence for a few moments. 

“So,” Steve started, “I guess I sucks to be stood up on a date that wasn’t even your idea.”

Peggy laughed into her wine glass. “It certainly would.” She waved her hand airily and looked at him. “But no, it wasn’t a date. Just a friend, an actress. She knows some of the cast, is trying to meet one of the directors. I was just supposed to be moral support.”

“Well then, you’re a good friend, too.” He smiled.

“I’d be gone already if it weren’t for that overeager usher at the door.” Peggy smirked back at him.

“I guess I’m lucky she’s there,” he said, and watched as just a hint of color spread over her cheekbones. “So you could help me out with the wine, of course.”

“Of course,” Peggy said. She took a small step towards him and leaned against the wall, sipping her wine. 

“So,” Steve looked down into her warm brown eyes, “what’s a normal Tuesday, when you’re not providing moral support?”

“I’m a law clerk, so, reading cases, doing research. Very boring stuff.”

“I bet. Which judge?”

Peggy cocked her head quizzically. “Swain.”

Steve gave a low whistle. “So you’re a hotshot law clerk.”

Peggy rolled her eyes but tipped her glass in his direction. “That’s me.” Her voice had a sardonic edge Steve found he really liked. She took a swig. “And you’re a what—law groupie?”

“Just an informed citizen.” At her skeptical look, he shrugged. “And a cop.” Another shrug. “I like to know all the players.”

He watched her closely for any sign that she was the sort of lawyer who might look down on his job, but she just gave a nod and a noncommittal “Hmmm.” 

They lapsed into another silence, punctuated by a smattering of applause from the small crowd in the room beyond, and then a viola began to play.

“Oh!” Steve peeked around the post again, “I think this is the piece Natasha produced. There’s supposed to be some interesting stunt work with a—oh.” He stopped, mouth hanging open. “Oh, no.”

 

Steve shoved the platter into Peggy’s hand. “I’m sorry, can you just?” was all she heard before he turned back, on high alert, his back tense and his free hand braced against the wall.

Peggy, of course, couldn’t help but peek around the other side. Up in front, a space had been cleared where two archers, a man and a young woman, now stood opposite one another, dressed in black and purple, full quivers strapped to their backs. At the same time, they each took aim, seemingly at each other. A drumbeat sounded and they loosed their first arrows, both narrowly missing. Then began a volley of shots and gymnastics that Peggy could hardly follow, all set to an increasingly insistent drum, the viola’s haunting melody playing over it all. By the end, the arrows were set aflame, forming hearts in each wall, and the archers simply walked away from each other and out of sight. The crowd leapt to their feet with wild applause and Peggy found she’d been holding her breath nearly the whole time.

She looked back over at Cheese Guy Steve, who was also looking at her, surprise and perhaps something darker in his wide blue eyes. Now she was breathing too hard, winded like she’d run a race. He appeared flushed, spots of color high on his cheeks. They both moved towards each other as if magnetized, disappearing back into their hiding spot.

“That was...something,” she murmured, gaze flitting between his blue, blue eyes and his lush pink lips. He was so damn handsome.

“Yeah,” he breathed, looking just as distracted as she felt.

“Rogers.” A small redhead popped around the pillar. She sparkled a dazzling smile between the two of them, then zeroed in on the cheese. “I’ll take that, thanks. Good hiding spot.” With that, she was gone.

It was enough to break the spell between them, though. 

“Sorry I sort of panicked just then.” Steve scratched at the back of his head. “Nat did _not_ tell me it would be like that.”

“Nope, that was justified. I found myself wondering about the insurance your friend must have had to purchase.”

Steve laughed. “Oh, I was just really worried I was gonna have so much paperwork if I witnessed an accidental shooting with a bow and arrow. Damn.”

She laughed along with him. Steve ducked his head back out. “I think they closed up the bar.”

“So soon?” The food and beverage at this event was terrible.

“My friend was not in charge of the food,” he said, as if he’d read her mind. 

“Good for her.” Peggy sized him up. A cute, smart cop. There were worse ways to spend a Tuesday night. And they really hadn’t eaten much of that cheese, in the end. She was starving. “Want to get dinner?”

“I really, _really_ do.”

**Author's Note:**

> pin wheel: archery slang for when your arrow hits dead-center of the scoring ring


End file.
